


Virus

by Inalandofmythandtimeofmagic



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Blood, Choking, Death, Gore, Murder, Stabbing, Suicide, i dont know whats wrong with my broken brain, lots of, this is dark yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inalandofmythandtimeofmagic/pseuds/Inalandofmythandtimeofmagic
Summary: a sci-fy horror typical virus infects the sides





	Virus

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for the make CM cry challenge, but I don’t think it will. Sad and angsty feels? That's not exactly what happened, this is straight up horror. Sorry for my stupid tired brain but things went DARK when I was writing this last night. Please pay close attention to the warnings and do not read if this will upset you. 
> 
> Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence, Blood, lots of blood, stabbing, suicide, wrist cutting, it’s just gorey and more graphic than anything else I have ever written, what is wrong with me.

Alone. Betrayed. Betrayer. My heart beats agonizingly slow, thud squeeze thud squeeze. Through the bleariness of the tears in my eyes I can still see the blood caked around my nails, the creases of my knuckles. Did I make the right choice? Perhaps if I had just let the virus run it’s course things would have been okay?

“No” I croak, my voice hoarse but vehement. No, I remember Logic launching himself at Thomas, hands curled tightly around his throat, body covered in a black lines and eyes completely black. The fear was palpable, the shock as they watched Thomas… “No” I said again, Prince had stopped him. Thomas was fine. I’m mostly sure Thomas is fine.

We had locked Logan in his room, the black veined boy becoming more and more animalistic. Scratching and thudding and howling against the door. I remember the moment I knew Logic was gone, the moment I knew that he had to be stopped. I remember the denial that followed, the sheer exhaustion I felt as I pressed my back against the door that now imprisoned both Logan and Roman. 

I remember Anxiety watching me through a gap in his door, eyes wide with terror. I remember locking eyes with the boy as the door shattered above me, exploding outward and throwing me to the ground. 

The two snarling, things, burst into existence beside Thomas in the kitchen. Grey skinned and black eyed, they had him on the ground before I could get there, what used to be Logan’s hands curled around Thomas’ neck so hard the I could see drops of blood well up around the fingernails. 

Anxiety darted past me and wrapped his arms around Prince’s shoulders, falling backwards with him and pinning him against his chest. What used so be Roman snarled and thrashed,clawing at Anxiety’s face. I looked desperately around the kitchen, eyes finally landing on the the butcher block of knives. 

The knife enters flesh easier than I ever could have imagined, blood spilling out of his side and over my hand. In a rage Logic slams Thomas’ head against the tile, knocking him unconscious before twisting around to face me. I am barely able to keep a grip on the knife, pulling it out of his side before he launches at me. I don’t have time to react and the only thing that saves me is sheer luck as the weight of our fall lodges the knife in his throat. 

Logan coughs and gurgles on top of me, I can feel the warmth of his blood all over me, it drips onto my neck and down the side of my face. I heave him off of me and pull the slick knife out of him. He’s not dead just yet, but I can hear Anxiety struggling with Prince. I turn towards them, ready. 

Anxiety shakes his head at me, eyes wide and spilling tears. “No,” he pleads, pressing kisses to Prince’s temple. Roman is not fighting as hard anymore, he is panting and watching me intently. Those eyes aren’t Roman’s, he is gone already. Tears mingle with the bloody claw marks on Anxiety’s face and stain Prince’s white shirt pink. I move before I can think about it anymore, bringing the knife down as hard as I can into his chest. Anxiety is screaming. He pleading with me and wailing, even as Roman’s hands claw at my face. 

As soon as it is over I stumble a few steps away and wretch over and over again. Anxiety has flung himself across Prince’s body, the noises he’s making aren’t human. I look over at Thomas, he is pale and unmoving and I don't know if he’s breathing. I crawl over to him, trying hard not to look at the bloody mess that was once Logan. I try to feel for his pulse but my hand trembles to much. Instead I lay my ear against his chest, I could have collapsed in relief when I felt it rise. 

I struggled to pull him to the couch, unable to get Anxiety to let go of Prince and help me. I meant to check him over, make certain he was okay, but exhaustion overtakes me, and I pass out.

Images of Logan and Roman flood my mind, light hearted banter and kisses in the moonlight. Disney marathons and youtube videos. The swirling memories resolved into one, one of laying in Logan’s bed, feet tangled together as early morning sun streams over us. In the memory I lean over Logan, exchanging lazy morning kisses in between smiles. I lean back a little to look at him. His face is happy and trusting, he doesn’t see the knife doesn’t expect it. Once again the knife sinks into his side, but this time Logan’s face is a mask of pain and betrayal rather than that of a monster. 

I jolt upright gasping from the nightmare, overcome with another wave of nausea. I make it to the kitchen sink this time, but there was nothing left. When my fit of dry heaving is over I looked around the kitchen. Nothing had changed, Logan and Roman’s bodies still lay in puddles of drying blood and vomit. Anxiety was still there, laying curled with his head on Prince’s chest, blood soaked and drying in his hoodie. I picked the boy up, he was to tired to fight me, and some how managed to get us both upstairs after checking Thomas. I get Anx into the shower, ignoring the pull and crackle of dried blood on my own skin. 

I can feel it coming while he showers, the break down. I try to hold it off but I can't stop the hiccuping sobs, and the trembling. I don’t even hear Anxiety get out of the shower, but suddenly he’s there kneeling in front of me. He pulls me into his arms and pets my hair until I can breath again. 

When I pull away I can see that his face is sad, wide eyes swimming with tears. Wordlessly he holds his arm out for me to inspect. There on his arms I can see the beginning of the black spider web patterns that will soon cover his whole body. 

“No,” it’s barely a breath, but I repeat it again, louder, when Anxiety holds up a razor blade he brought back from the bathroom.  
Anxiety just looks at me, his eyes only show acceptance and he offers me a weak smile. He moves slowly slicing into one arm, then the other. He doesn’t cry but I do, I sob and wail and rock him until my voice is gone, until fingers are prying Anxiety out of my arms and laying him gently on the carpet. I look up in surprise at Thomas, who is pale and haggard but who smiles at me anyways. This brave boy who just lost almost everything he was, who had just survived a horrific attack, he smiled at me and pulled me into a hug. 

“Ah-are you oh-kay?” I manage to get out between sobbs. I felt Thomas shake his head no, against my shoulder. “Let's get you cleaned up, and find you somewhere to stay tonight. I don’t want you staying here tonight. “

I rushed Thomas out the door, praying he’d be safe, because I could already feel it. Hate, anger, a desire to be free of Thomas. I resist the urge to bare my teeth and snarl, instead I walk to the bathroom. 

My reflection is horrible, new and old blood mixed together matting my hair, my clothes. Slowly , I peel the bloody shirt from my skin and drop it to the floor. My torso is covered in black veining, some of it even reaching my neck. I fall to my knees, Anx’s razor blade clutched in my hand, all I can do is Pray thomas survives this. 

Alone. Betrayed. Betrayer. My heart beats agonizingly slow, thud squeeze thud squeeze. Through the bleariness of the tears in my eyes I can still see the blood caked around my nails, the creases of my knuckles. Did I make the right choice? Perhaps if I had just let the virus run it’s course things would have been okay?

“No” I croaked, my voice hoarse but vehement, and I press the blade to my skin.


End file.
